


One Red Balloon

by shewhoguards



Category: 99 Red Balloons (Song)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoguards/pseuds/shewhoguards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ninety nine red blobs passing overhead, too far above to be identified, dancing in a delirium of Brownian motion. Ninety nine and one falling behind, exhausted from the whirl and spin, dropping quickly towards the earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Red Balloon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/gifts).



Ninety nine red blobs passing overhead, too far above to be identified, dancing in a delirium of Brownian motion. Ninety nine and one falling behind, exhausted from the whirl and spin, dropping quickly towards the earth. I gave chase, too curious to allow such a mystery to escape me. Through London I ran, darting between cars, narrowly avoiding accidents. Others had stopped to watch the passage of the mysterious objects and I had to dodge between them. I would be late for work, but I could worry about that later.

Finally it came down to rest near my feet with a soft hiss of escaping air, as it collapsed and shrivelled in my hand. Only a red balloon, lost and away from its compatriots, its shiny rubber crinkled and sad at being lost from the sky-dance above. I picked it up cautiously, quickly spotting the puncture. Walking back towards the office, it didn’t take long for it to die completely. I tucked the remnants into my pocket, smiling at the thought. Later I could show my little brother. Martin liked odd little stories like that.

***

Ninety nine people rushing in and out of the office, all of them clutching papers or talking urgently on mobile phones. Ninety nine, and one realising that today was not the day to have been late to work. I slipped in, hoping that somehow no-one would have noticed my absence. It seemed, however, that it had been the last thing on anyone’s mind. People were talking excitedly about missiles, airspace incursions, invasion, defcon levels rising, _war..._

It was a time when no-one was going to pay too much attention to a junior clerk. Messages were shoved in my direction and the only thing to be done was run with them, and then run back with the reply.

It was only when I heard someone talking about mysterious objects over London that it dawned on me that the fuss might have something to do with the deflated balloon in my back pocket.

***

Ninety nine ministers, advisors, and senior army officials hurrying to their meetings. Ninety nine, and one far too unimportant for anyone to bother listening to. My boss was nowhere to be found, _her_ boss was... God only knew. Who knew what the chain of command was for an urgent message at such a time? Email was certainly far too slow. I tried, I swear I tried, but no-one had time to see me or listen. Those who did only looked at me as though I was something as strange and out of place as a unicorn in a brothel, or hurried away in another direction.

Finally, I gave up trying to do things officially and tried to find an unofficial route, any route. Red rubber clutched in my hand I hovered outside as people streamed in and out of Downing Street, the closest I was ever likely to get to the COBRA meeting. As I contemplated trying to talk my way past one of the policeman standing guard an alarm went off. Out of time.

***

Ninety nine junior staff members, clerks and interns being shepherded into an underground shelter. Ninety nine, and one grim-faced soldier – the only one who knew where we were actually going.

The advantage of working near the heart of government is that, when danger is predicted, they know enough to get everyone they can in the immediate vicinity into safety. Not the top-secret, reinforced, can hold out for a decade if needed safety our leaders got obviously, but safety. The best they could do – or at least, the best they were prepared to do for such junior staff.

The disadvantage – there was no urgent task for us to do when we were underground. We were far too unimportant for that. There was nothing to do for us to huddle together in the centre of our underground cavern, and try not to stare at each other’s pale faces. Someone found a radio, the crackly noise filling the enclosed space. Here and there, in whispers, I could hear people praying in the shadows cast by artificial light.

***

Ninety nine days underground, growing used to the taste of musty recycled air. Ninety nine and one day when we struggled back up and outside, back into light that wasn’t powered by electricity.

The radio had warned us what to expect, but nothing could have prepared us. There could have been no warning that would have hardened us to the sight of familiar buildings razed to the ground, Big Ben broken and smashed, the Houses of Parliament reduced to nothing but dust. The army had been out before us, doing what they could. We were spared at least the sight of the dead, though the smell hung on the air. There had been no time to tidy away their remnants though – the car, front door smashed open, a nasty stain on the front street. The truck with belongings heaped in the back, higgledy piggledy – people who had tried to run but had nowhere run to.

Like animals loosed from a cage but unaccustomed to freedom we huddled together, unwilling to move forward without being driven. We didn’t want to go further, didn’t want to discover any more. If we stopped still then everything else could remain as perfect within our memories. It hurt to replace such perfection with the broken reality.

***

Ninety nine facets of normal living I have lost, things so every day that I never noticed them at all. Ninety nine, and yet one, the simple process of survival, still goes on.

 Of course, there is no need for a junior clerk in this new strange world, nor even a senior one. But there was enough food stashed for us to survive long enough to learn. Learn to grow, learn to hunt as the rabbits and wildlife begin to capture the cities, learn to be a human rather than a clerk. Even a rat looks appetising when you’re hungry enough but there are still things to dig for in the ruins.

We survive because we must survive. What other choice is there?

***

Ninety nine memories folded away, placed in some private hidden place, too fresh and painful to allow myself to access. Ninety nine and one I refuse to allow myself to lose.

A simple crumpled piece of red rubber, found in my back pocket months after it was too late to be any use for anyone. Too late for explanations, too late to take back what had been done, and far, far too late to give to my little brother.

I miss you, Martin. For you I keep my single red balloon.


End file.
